Spring of Apple Blossoms
by silvergryphon06
Summary: Spring comes, with all of its traditions. For one young man, it becomes the defining season, the one on which he has unknowingly pinned a lifetime on.


_**A/N: **_**Here's a little ficlet that's been dancing around in my mind since I picked up my DS again. It's not exactly an M rating, but it's a bit much for a T, so under M it goes! Please leave a review at the door, I love 'em, and they truly are helpful and encouraging! Not to mention, if enough people express an interest, I may develop this into either a full, multi-chapter story, or just add the smut (I'm a slave to my audience's whim, of course ;D) **

**And, as always, read and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a gremlin...on occasion.**

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The sun was just beginning to rise in the distance, casting the sky in a warm, citrus glow. Marlin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his grip on the small container tightening. He stood just at the entrance to Silverlight Farms, the sign to his left proudly proclaiming the location in bright white letters.

He looked out towards the ranch house and took a moment to admire the neat rows of fruit trees that marched just behind it. They stood tall, stately guardians of the home against the elements of harsher seasons. The ranch itself was mostly quiet, the only sounds to be heard the soft babbling from the chicken house and the occasional bleat or low moo from the massive barns.

The sun climbed higher as he remained still, the light beginning to glimmer faintly against the rough stone walls of the barns. It had taken her nearly a year to finish them, even with extra hands pitching in now and again. For the most part, however, she did for herself, rarely asking and always giving. Her fields stretched far towards the woodlands that flanked the very back of the farm, the soil tilled and watered with precise care. Sprouts of green were just peeping out of the dirt, mingling their rich, green scent with the perfume of the apple blossoms that hung from some of the larger trees.

Taking a deep breath to steady his courage, Marlin began to walk forward, passing the smaller vegetable garden that was tidily fenced with smartly painted wooden posts. Few of the other villagers knew that she had chopped every single one, painstakingly chipping away the rough edges until they satisfied her desire for uniformity. It was a trait that he could understand, growing up on a farm himself. Everything had a place, needed a place, to keep running smoothly, and everything should thus be orderly in its own right.

His boots shuffled against the soft grass that covered every inch of turf that wasn't used for farming, as thick and plush as he imagined clouds would be. Reaching the door, he hesitated, juggling his small offering between his hands awkwardly.

What if she refused them? No, that would be out of character; she was a sweet soul, despite the almost tomboyish, gruff outward appearance that she kept. Baggy t-shirts, grimy jeans, and thick-soled boots were her constant attire, not even bothering to change for more formal festivals that cropped up every year.

And yet, those baggy t-shirt did little to hide the gentle curve of her torso. The jeans were dirty, but they failed to disguise the gentle sway of her hips when she walked, clinging to her like a second skin. Nor did her smile become any less beautiful to look at, not even dampening the bright mischief that always danced in her eyes. If anything bothered her, she merely stuck out her tongue and rolled her sleeves further up leanly muscled arms.

What if she laughed at him? His cheeks colored at the thought, but he shook his head to brush it away. That wouldn't be like her either. She had told him once that her childhood had been fraught with bullies, of one kind or another, and that she despised their type, and that she strove on a daily basis to say at least one kind word to anyone she happened to meet. In the two years she had been living in the valley, he hadn't ever known that claim to be a bluff. On more than one occasion, he'd had to hold her back from punching some of the ruder teens that liked to gather outside the inn, their catcalls and taunts more than enough to flare her temper.

And what an impressive sight that was; a bit scary too. Those violet eyes could turn to flint in a heartbeat and the transformation was usually enough to make even the burliest of them take a step back. It was people like the, she would say, that needed the kindest words. But then she would shrug and eye him mildly, admitting that she was only human, reminding him that 'to strive' was the same as 'to try' in most books. He never could argue with her on that point, but then, what could he argue about with her and win?

Nothing came to mind. She had a streak of stubbornness that was nearly as vast as the ocean waters that stretched towards the horizon. Once she had her mind set, she was a horse with the bit in its mouth; too proud and tenacious to spit it out or admit she was wrong. To Marlin, it was far from a flaw. Rather, it was proof of her humanity, evidence that what she told him was the truth, and he valued that far more than someone who coated their language with candied deceptions.

When she had come to find him that night, when he had been so determined to stand in the rain no matter the cost to his health, he had been resentful of her to start with.

"Am I ever going to be strong again? Like you?" he had asked her.

Her gaze was level with his, her lips set in a thin line as her arms crossed over her stomach.

"Yes," she had replied, "but standing out here isn't going to make it come back faster. And it really isn't going to make me any less pissed, idiot."

She was blunt, and more than a little terse, but he had appreciated the underlying comfort she was offering all the same. It was also the first time he had really looked at her as something other than a good friend. The raindrops had dampened her shirt to the point that the fabric was plastered against her slender frame, tracing every dip and curve in a way that had him up for several nights after that, his body tingling and heated in ways that he had not experienced before. It unnerved him and he had avoided her for a time afterwards, uncertain and untrusting of his reactions to her.

He had been right to be suspicious.

She had been thrown into an entirely new light, one that made his heartbeat hammer, his mouth dry, and his palms sweat. Where his glance at her backside had once been appreciative, was now nearly ogling and he couldn't help it. Her hand brushing against his bare arm was no longer casual, but suggestive without her knowledge, setting his imagination on fire with ideas of how hands rough with calluses could become soft as velvet against his skin. Meeting her gaze became dangerous, more often than not making him flush because the wonder of how they would look if more than affection were reflected in the amethyst depths was always at the back of his mind.

He dropped his eyes back down at the container cradled in his hands and swallowed hard, forcing his musings aside. He needed to calm down. Taking another deep, cleansing breath, Marlin lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

"Jill? It's Marlin, Jill, are you up? There's something I need to talk to you about!"

His voice resonated in the quiet morning air and he suppressed a cringe. Footsteps could be dimly heard within the structure, along with the sharp barks of her diminutive hound, Frisk. The door was tossed open and he was momentarily distracted by yipping and meowing blurs of black and brown darting past his legs, throwing him slightly off-balance. Windmilling his arms frantically with a startled shout, he felt gravity pulling inexplicably towards the stone slab of her doorstep. Suddenly a hand shot out and grasped his, tugging him back upright with a grunt. Finding his feet steady again, he looked up to thank her, but the words died in his throat, his jaw dropping.

Oh, Goddess, he was in trouble.

She stood in the doorway, a t-shirt reaching mid-thigh and his eyes traveled the expanse of her legs, awed and dazedly wondering why she never bothered to show them. They were gorgeous! Lean and shapely, they seemed to go on for miles before ending at dainty feet. Snapping his gaze back up, he caught sight of one arm crossed over her stomach, a single hip braced against the door, emphasizing the outline of her breasts concealed beneath soft-looking cotton. Her eyes were wide and alert despite the early hour, her face framed by the chestnut strands that she had yet to put up in her normal pigtails. However, the toothbrush that was held between her lips, her hand loosely grasping the base, was perhaps what made the sight a sinfully provocative image, his male imagination going haywire. The circuits between his brain and his mouth shorted, leaving him speechless as he gawked.

She tilted her head at him curiously, her brow furrowing in puzzlement, tugging the toothbrush past her lips to hang casually between her fingers.

"Mornin', Marlin, What brings you out to see me at this hour?"

He was almost too late to answer the question, his mind still struggling to process what he was seeing as heat rocketed down his spine to pool low in his belly. Recovering with only seconds to spare, he closed his mouth with a snap before giving her a sheepish grin, his hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Well, i-it's the…the Spring Th-thanksgiving Festival today and…and I brought y-you these," he stuttered, thrusting out his arm to present her with the small, sweet treats he had baked himself.

Her eyes lit up as she grinned at him, taking the little box with a happy chirping sound, popping open the lid swiftly.

"Wow, thank you! Come on in, I was just getting ready to start on my chores for the mornin'," she said with a beckoning gesture.

Hesitantly, he followed, fighting to keep his gaze fixed between her shoulder blades and to ignore the inviting glimpses of her thighs as she walked towards a large kitchen table. She bent over slightly to place the container on the hewn wooden surface and Marlin thought for sure he was going to die of a nosebleed, the shirt's hem lifting to tease him mercilessly with the scarcely obscured curve of her bottom.

Marlin cursed himself inwardly, slapping his palm against his forehead with a barely suppressed groan. He just _had _to come out here before she started working, could _not _wait until evening because he had to be the first one to give her the traditional cookies. He _had _to make an impression. His attention was brought back to his present predicament by her hum of approval.

"Goddess, Marlin, these are fantastic!"

He grinned at that, enormously pleased, and relieved to have a topic of conversation to distract him.

"Honest? I'm glad. Vesta swore I'd never be able to make a decent batch by sun-up."

She turned towards him, leaning back against the edge of the table as she finished munching on one chocolaty treat.

"She obviously has no idea how awesome these little guys are, then."

He was about to reply, but she started licking her fingertips and he lost his train of thought, his focus zeroing in on watching her small pink tongue flick over the slender digits. The heat that had been gathering in his abdomen flared and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Yes, well, like I said, I'm really glad you like them. So…happy spring, and all that!"

He made his voice cheery, grinning at her and waving his hand as he turned to go, desperate to escape before she it impossible to sleep entirely. Her fingers gently wrapping around his made him freeze in his tracks, goosebumps rising in the wake of her touch.

"Marlin," she called his name softly, the normally rough edge of her voice gone and replaced with something that made him close his eyes.

He opened them, then turned around to fully face her, noting that her hand was still joined with his and was surprised when she laced their fingers together.

"Thank you, for these…and for thinking of me, on a day like today," there was a softness in her eyes that was making his insides melt, creating a mad hope that he would be the only one she looked at like that.

He swallowed thickly, dropping his gaze from hers because the feelings she was invoking were quickly becoming overwhelming.

"I always think of you," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing.

She was stock still in front of him and sweat began to gather on his brow, heat prickling over his skin in embarrassment and mild panic. He hadn't just admitted that, had he? No, he had and the words were hanging limply in the air between them. Dammit all, her eyes and her sweet voice had gotten to him and driven past the point of sanity. Oh, Goddess, he had to apologize and leave, before this got any worse.

He lifted his head and parted his lips, the apology already at the tip of his tongue…and there they remained, because she had reached up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

Marlin was stunned. His heartbeat skyrocketed and instinct took over, his eyes drifting shut as he returned the kiss, his hands lifting of their own accord to gently run up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her closer. She complied, her arms wrapping around his neck and fingers playing in the dark strands at the nape of his neck. Hesitantly, he slanted his lips over hers, molding her mouth beneath his as butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Chocolate lingered on her lips and he tasted it, along with a flavor that was uniquely her own. It was addictive, intoxicating and he knew that one sampling would never be enough.

They parted and reality began to creep back into his consciousness, reminding him of exactly what had happened. He searched her face, taking in the sight of her blushing cheeks and wide, dancing eyes.

"I'm always thinking of you, too," she murmured, her lips curving into a wickedly tempting smile; trouble did not even begin to cover it.

Without waiting for a second invitation, Marlin captured her lips with his, the more logical processes almost completely drowned out by the sensation of her mouth pressing against his own. Even more astounding was the fact that he felt her kissing him back. Her lips were warm, pliant beneath his aggressive onslaught. This wasn't the gentle, hesitant exploration of their first kiss. It was greedy, hurried, as if Marlin felt like he needed to brand her.

His hands buried themselves in her hair, tilting her head just a little further back so that he could gain better access, his body intuitively knowing what to do. He felt her more slender fingers sliding up his chest, sending heat skittering down his spine. The same electric, static feeling from where their lips first met was zinging through his blood, making his heart pound at an alarming rate. But his world had narrowed to her, where he made contact with her and the concerns that normally swarmed in his mind escaped him.

He stepped closer to her, his body demanding that he be nearer. He pulled back slightly for air, their breath mingling and he dove back down, still unable to get enough. His hands roved back down to her shoulders, following the lines of her upper arms until his questing fingertips found her waist. Marlin wrapped his arms around the trim, feminine curve, murmuring appreciatively against her lips. He flattened his palms against the curve of her spine, skimming them upwards and bringing her against his chest. When her lips parted beneath his, the kiss deepened unexpectedly and the tiny moan that escaped her throat sent a shiver and a bolt of something alien through him. Possessiveness streaked through his consciousness, emboldening him to nip at her bottom lip lightly with his teeth and she let out another sound, this one breathy and, he inferred, surprised.

She pressed closer to him, her fingertips' touch on his neck causing what was akin to tiny shocks to dance across his skin, igniting in his blood stream and sending it rushing through his veins. Jill's hips bumped into his as she shifted in his arms and he felt a jolt of pure heat as blood rushed down his body. His jeans were starting to feel rather constricted, but he couldn't quite bring himself to stop touching her, reducing his perceptions to just the sensations that she invoked.

Gently, Jill sipped at his lower lip, her teeth barely grazing it and he let out a low groan against her mouth, the action sending another spark of that strange _something_ skating through him. She shivered against him when his hands began to slowly roam over her back and she arched the tiniest bit.

When they parted, he looked down at her swollen, slightly red lips and felt satisfaction. They were both breathing heavily and his heart felt as though it would pound right out of his chest.

His grin matched hers and he swiftly scooped her up into his arms, hers wrapping around his shoulders with a happy giggle as he kicked the front door shut.

Spring would forever be his favorite season.


End file.
